


slow hands

by camdotcom



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: CUTE!!, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Angst, SnowBaz, Swearing, Whump, blood tw, brief descriptions of wounds, no beta we die like men, no violence just a little blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camdotcom/pseuds/camdotcom
Summary: simon returns from his mission for the mage in not exactly one piece. baz is appropriately upset. penny, the voice of reason, is far away. gay antics ensue.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 172





	slow hands

**BAZ**

It's dark when the door swings open. I'm used to this, Simon coming back late, battered and bruised. He's still got his sword in his hand, and he's covered in a thin layer of grime. My heart contracts.

He closes the door carefully behind him, seemingly trying not to wake me up. But I just got back from the Catacombs, and I'm wide awake. He turns and his eyes skip over me, instead going straight to his bed.

He takes a few steps forward, and I can see the mud tracks from the soles of his shoes on the carpet. I'll spell it away in the morning.

"Have fun?" I ask, a teasing lilt to my voice. I forget sometimes that we're enemies and that he hates me. But he seems to have forgotten as well.

"Not exactly," Simon replies. His voice is thick with fatigue. He presses the hilt of his sword to his waist, and it fades away. His shoulders droop. He undoes the laces on his boots and tugs his jumper over his head.

"Despite what you may think, I'm not very fond of being nearly killed."

"And what was it this time?"

He smiles a little. "Numpties."

"What the bloody hell do Numpties have to do with the Humdrum?" I ask in a rage. I'm letting him get under my skin, but his smile is worth it.

"You'd have to ask the Mage. I haven't got a clue."

"You could say that again."

The smile slides off, and I almost regret saying it. But I have a reputation to uphold, and I can't go around complimenting the Mage's Heir. I'd be staked by my father, if not all the Families.

"I'm going to take a shower," Simon says, that tired sound back in his voice. I almost wince. I did that. He goes to the bathroom door and closes it behind him. I hear the lock click, and I exhale a deep breath.

I light a fire at the end of my finger a light one of the candles on my nightstand. The shower turns on in the bathroom, and I sigh again. I run a hand through my hair and listen to the running water.

"He's back," I whisper to myself. As though Snow could hear me. "He's okay. You're okay. Go to sleep."

I lay down with my back to the wall and let my eyes fall closed. I can tell already that it'll take a long time before I'll be able to fall asleep. Which means I'll be subjected to post-battle Snow, but also post-shower Snow, which is objectively hotter.

I'm not sure how long my eyes are closed, or how long it is before Snow opens the bathroom door. I have to physically brace myself before I open my eyes. I can feel the heat from the shower steam before I see him. I open my eyes.

His hair is slicked back and still dripping wet, but it's starting to fall in front of his eyes again. He's got the towel around his waist, but his chest and some of his legs are exposed. I'm losing my mind.

He shuffles through his drawers and takes his clothes back into the bathroom, shutting out the steamy warmth. The room is cold and quiet. I sit up. The silence is killing me. There aren't even any bugs chirping outside.

Then Snow opens the door and walks out, throwing me a sideways glance before collapsing in his own bed, his back to me. He's just got on a worn out pair of joggers, and he slings one of the blankets over himself.

"Could you go to sleep?" He says over his shoulder, annoyed. "If you're going to plot my death could you not stare a hole into the back of my head?"

I scoff. "I don't want you dead, Snow."

"Could've fooled me." His voice is thick and tired, and it's like I'm falling in love all over again. He's so damned gorgeous in this light, and I wish he'd make one of his idiotic jokes right now. "Didn't mean it like that," he says, and his eyes are half closed. "It's just that when you push someone down the stairs, sometimes they get the wrong idea."

"It's fine," I say, and I know I'm walking a fine line. I cross it. "I didn't really mean to push you."

"Well I sure as hell fell."

"That was all you, I'm afraid."

He scoffs this time. I don't know if I've ever heard him scoff before. He turns, and the blanket falls, revealing his shoulder and part of his back.

"Shit, Snow," I say, and he turns. He winces. There's a nasty cut on his shoulder, slicing right down to his ribs. It's not particularly deep, but it looks like it hurts like hell.

"What?"

"You're hurt," I say, and I sound so vulnerable. He sounds hurt—in pain, that is—but he's literally bleeding onto his sheets. I can't believe I'm panicked about Snow's well being. "You're bleeding."

"Fuck," he mutters, and he rushes to stand up. I check the clock on the nightstand that I'd neglected to look at before, and it's nearly 3 in the morning. There's no way anyone would be up now. We need a medic.

"Fuck. Fucking hell." He gets down, wincing all the way, and rummages under his bed. He's just stuck his arm under when I hear him strike something, and he pulls a box out from under.

"Merlin, Snow. A first aid kit?"

"You'd be surprised how often I've used it," he replies, not even trying to come up with something snarky or insulting. I guess I'm not either. He takes out a strip of gauze. "How bad is it?"

"Shit, Snow. You're going to need stitches." I snatch the gauze from him and press it to the wound, and he cries out.

"Some warning next time! Shit!"

I take another strip of gauze from the box and press it to his side. He raises his arm up, and he's rummaging through the box with his other hand. He brings up a needle and thread. He curses. He looks down at me, a pleading look on his face.

" _No_ ," I say, pressing the gauze decisively against him. It's hardly bleeding anymore, but I still hold it up. Anything to keep me from stitching him up. "Can't you just call up Bunce?"

"Penny is the most squeamish person I've ever met," he quips. "Plus, I can't get into the girl's dormitory to get her. I haven't got a clue how she gets past the barrier into ours."

I'm really going to have to do this, huh? Shit. I drop the gauze, tossing into the bin by my desk. Fuck. Shit.

**PENELOPE**

I can feel that Simon’s doing something stupid. It’s a sort of sixth sense, I suppose. He’s not going to get himself killed, but he’s definitely being an idiot.

After spending basically our entire time at Watford with him, I’ve gotten accustomed to him doing one dumb thing after another. It’s still hard to see him get hurt. Well, it’s quite easy to _see_ it, just difficult to bear.

He’s doing something now. Or he’s about to do something. It’s been ten minutes without anything big happening, and he didn’t fight with Baz enough to make him go off, so there’s definitely something off. Maybe Baz has finally worn him down.

No. That’s impossible. If anything, he’ll wear Baz down. They’re both so fucking stubborn–

Trixie mumbles something in her sleep. I’ve still got my lamp on, so I turn it off. It’s none of my business what he gets up to.

Sorry, Simon, but this is your problem now.

**SIMON**

I can't believe that I didn't notice I was bleeding until Baz pointed it out. It's humiliating, but I think Baz's more concerned with the fact that I'm injured. Which is great, but I haven't got a clue why.

I wish Penny were here. If only she told me how to get past the gender barrier. It's old magic, as old as Watford itself. It's a miracle she managed it in the first place.

She's probably asleep, anyway. I should be. I would be, if I hadn't gotten fucking cut. The Mage hadn't sent us out after Numpties, and I honestly can't believe Baz believed it. He'd sent Penny and I after the Humdrum itself. It was a boring job until the haunted knights had come. There was a stupid old fairy tale about them, but they were very real, and apparently so were their swords.

Baz takes the needle and thread carefully. His hands are irritatingly steady. He takes a deep breath, and his face is even grayer than usual. I look away.

I can feel when the needle goes through, long before I realize he's even threaded it. I bite into my hand. That hurts too, but not nearly as much as the needle.

It takes a long time. I'm completely spaced out for at least half of it.

**BAZ**

Fuck. I never thought I'd have to fucking stitch up anyone, especially not Snow.

I fed last night, but being so close to his open wound is...horrible. I can feel my fangs sliding down, but I will them back up. I've survived years of not biting Snow, I think I can magnate a few more minutes.

But as the minutes pass, the more tempting it is to sink my fangs into his skin, just drink what's practically waiting for me. But fuck, I couldn't. He'd never forgive me. To be honest, he might be more upset that I really was a vampire and never told him.

He makes a muffled sound against his hand. He's biting into it like an idiot, but he barely seems to notice. He's staring far off into the distance and I'm a little worried he's blacked out.

I wave my hand in front of his face. "You alive? Anyone in there?" He startles, looking at me confusedly. "You okay?"

"Yep," he says in a completely unconvincing way. "Just...trying not to think about the needle in my skin at the moment."

Fair, I suppose.

"Right. Was just worried you were losing it."

He looks back, still confused. He's not comprehending half of the words I'm saying. I shut my mouth closed and focus on keeping my hands steady. I loop the needle through again, pushing the stench of blood away. My fangs are probably going to nick my bottom lip, but I can't be bothered to think about it.

It's an eternity until I finish stitching. I glance at the clock, and it's barely been ten minutes, but it felt like forever.

"You done?" He asks tensely when I stop. I nod, but he's looking away.

"Yeah, finished." I reach for the kit. "I've still got to bandage you up."

"No, I can do that. It's fine."

"Just sit down, Snow."

"No, really, I'll just—"

"Simon!" It's almost a yell, but not really. I don't know how it came out. Or why, really. "Sit down."

He sits. He's got bandages in the kit, so I take them out and unfold them. I'm surprised they're folded in the first place. I've lived with Snow half my life and he's not exactly tidy.

I start wrapping, and I'm trying my hardest not to touch him. But my hand brushes across his shoulder and I could swear that he shivers. Or shudders. I don't know if I should be hopeful about that or not.

I try not to think about the way his muscles move under his skin when he moves his arm, or the way his pulse goes up when I touch him, or the way that I can hear his heart pumping in his chest and I can't hear mine.

But I do. I think about all of those and more. Because I'm weak. I'm weak, and I'm in love with Simon Snow.

I finish. Simon has to fish through the kit for the clasp, but he eventually finds it and hand it to me. I reach out.

His fingers brush mine. I'm living in a cliche. This is a romance novel gone wrong.

"Does this hurt?" I ask, pressing the bandage down slightly to clasp it. He's sweating, but the window's already open. My hands go warm when I touch his skin. I try not to.

He winces. "No, it's alright."

"Liar," I say, but I push in the clasp anyway. He winces again, and it hurts me, too. I wish we didn't have to fight. I don't want to. Maybe I did before, maybe I used to, but I'm done fighting.

"Thanks," Simon says. He looks over his shoulder to face me better, and we're inches apart.

I think he's going to kiss me. I'd let him. I've never kissed anyone before (in case I bit them.) (And I've only ever wanted to kiss Simon.)

He's kissed girls. In second year, he was such a ladies man. It irked me then, but everything irked me then; I'd just learned the word 'irk'. And then he got together with Agatha and they'd been a happy couple ever since. Except they're not anymore.

"Don't mention it," I respond, but I can't muster anything malicious, so it just sounds sincere. I can't muster much of anything. We're inches apart.

There's so much emotion in his eyes, and I'm not even sure what half of it means. I can't read him as well as he can read me. It irks me.

"I mean it," he says. I can tell he's telling the truth. He's always telling the truth. He never really lies. Not to me.

"Of course." I'm so obvious. I'm not sure that's a problem, really. Either he kisses me here or he doesn't. I guess I'll live. I'm not sure I'm alive now.

He really turns around this time, facing me straight on. And I want him to kiss me.

He reaches out his hand and touches my face, right by my jaw, and I can feel my mouth dropping open. Out of surprise, I think. He's got his hand. On my face.

I'm not entirely sure I'm okay. I think my brain is short circuiting. I'm about to make some very bad decisions, I can just feel it.

I let my hand lay on his waist so very gently, and he jumps under my touch. The power in my hands. _Simon_. Simon in my hands.

I think he's going to kiss me.

And he's leaning in, and it's the end of the world. Everything's falling away, and it's just me and Simon. Simon and I.

I kiss him.

**SIMON**

Fuck. I'm kissing him. _He's_ kissing _me_.

Is this something we do now? Is this something we should do?

Is this something I want to do? I would've said no before, but I'm not sure anymore.

I push my hand through his hair, and it's impossibly soft. I want this. If I didn't before, I was an idiot.

His hands are just barely touching me on my waist, but my shirt's off and his fingers are cold on my bare skin.

Fuck. How do I come back from this?

I try to get myself to stop, but I can't. I won't. I don't want to.

**BAZ**

I would have freaked the hell out a few years ago. I am now, I think.

Simon cards his fingers through my hair, and I'm falling in love all over again.

He pulls away, and it's like all the warmth goes right with him. I suppress a shiver.

"I'm sorry," he says. He pulls his hands away and walks to the other side of the room. He's so far away.

"No, don't be." What am I saying?

He turns around. Walks back. He's pacing. I kiss him once, and he starts pacing.

"I shouldn't have kissed you." What is he saying?

"For the record, I kissed you," I reply, and I'm verbally shitting all over the place. But he steps close again. "So I think you're exempt from any blame here."

"Don't go using big words on me," he says, and he's eyeing my lips. And Merlin, I'm in love. My heart is beating out of my chest.

"You say that like we know each other." I sit on my bed. It might be because my legs are shaking, but he'll never know that. "We've been at each other's throats for years, and that hardly counts."

"Maybe we should change that. Peace in the World of Mages. That's what this is all about anyways, isn't it?" He steps closer. He's almost making sense, but it's all going in one ear and out another.

**SIMON**

What the hell is going on? If only Penny were here—

But she's not here. She'd probably tell me that I'm being stupid and not thinking about the goal. But she's wrong. She just doesn't know what my goal is.

Penny can't tell me anything, because she's asleep after our mission.

And of course I'm the one going on about the World of Mages. I haven't got a clue what my place is. I haven't got a clue about most of this.

I do know Baz, though. And Merlin, I'm going to die if I don't kiss him again.

**BAZ**

He'd better start kissing me again. He's talking nonsense now, about the Mage and Penny and his bloody quest, but his leg is touching mine and that's all I can think about.

 _Simon Snow is touching me_. And not in the casual way. In the on purpose kind of way. In the 'he really means it' kind of way.

"Look," he says, leveling his eyes to mine. I'm sitting and he's standing, so he leans in and puts his hands on my thighs. I'm losing my mind.

"I don't really know what's happening. But I kind of like it. And I think you do, too. Okay?" He looks so afraid. I don't really know of what. Of me? Of him? Of this?

I swallow. "Okay."

Simon looks at me like he's about to attack. He swoops down, but his lips are painstakingly gentle on mine. He kisses me softly, slowly, dragging every bit of emotion out of me. I put my hand on his waist again, and he doesn't shiver; this time he leans into my touch.

He speeds up the kiss. His hands are still on my thighs, warming me from the inside out. He's got his cross around his neck, still, and I can feel it stinging me before it even touches me at the collar, like a hot flame.

I pull away, muffling a cry.

He looks at me, concerned, and I love him. My heart might just explode. I glance down at his cross necklace, and he understands. He yanks at it and snaps the chain, tossing it aside like garbage.

He nudges me back, and I move until my back is against the wall. He climbs on the bed–onto me–in one fluid motion, latching his lips onto mine again. He winces once he's up, but I take special care not to touch his bandages.

His lips are so soft. So warm. I can feel my nose getting warmer just by proximity.

**SIMON**

Is it a good kiss? I don't know.

Baz is so cold, and I don't think he's ever kissed anyone before. But he kisses me like it's all he's ever wanted to do.

I really don't know how long I've wanted this. Not long enough, apparently. I never felt like this when I kissed Agatha. I've never felt like this at all.

Is Baz colder because he's a boy? Or a vampire? He's never said it, really, but I'm not blind. And he's a shit liar. He thinks he is, but I've known him for half our lives, and he's actually shit.

It feels weird. This is Baz, the boy that's tried to kill me since at least second year. But that's a different Baz. This one likes me. _Like_ likes me. I like this version better.

We're going to have to talk about this eventually. About _us_ , I guess. But I'm not ready. For now, I'll take late night making out over nothing.

That's what we're doing. Fucking hell. I'm making out with Baz Pitch, my enemy. It's practically prophesied. We're basically star crossed.

And he's kissing me again, for real, and everything else fades away. It's just him and I on my bed, and nothing else matters.

**BAZ**

I'm convinced that I'm losing my mind.

This has to be a dream. I wasn't tired earlier, but I am now. Can you be tired in dreams?

Simon pulls away, but he's still sitting on my lap. He has his hands on my shoulders, and he's looking down on my like I'm an art piece in a gallery.

He's the masterpiece, though. His hair glistens golden in the low light, his eyes still vibrant as ever. And he's looking down at me like I'm the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

"I like you," I say, and it doesn't even scratch the surface. Simon's face lights up, and he kisses me. "I really like you."

He kisses me again. "How long?"

"Forever," I reply, and I wait for him to kiss me. He does. "Almost since we met."

"Almost?"

"I really did hate you for a time there." And he laughs, smiley and lighthearted. I could never get tired of this. The smiles fades, but he's still looking at me in that way.

"You could always sleep over here, if you wanted to." As soon as I make the offer, I regret it. I'm making especially bad choices today.

Simon makes a face. "This bed is way too small for two people." He turns to look at his bed, then looks back to me. "We could push them together, though."

I smile. He smiles. He kisses me, long and slow, and I'm convinced I'm not dreaming anymore.

I fall asleep next to Simon. Touching him. Facing him. I threw my arm around his waist, and he pulled me closer.His eyes are closed. He’s nearly asleep–we both are. He kisses me again, softly.

"I'm sorry." His voice is so quiet I hardly hear it. He’s so soft. He’s melting in my arms.

"For what?"

"For not kissing you sooner."

I smile, only because he can't see me. " _I_ kissed _you_."


End file.
